Groans.

The girl rubs her head, her sleep suddenly interrupted. She had taken off her seatbelt earlier due to discomfort, wanting to take a short nap, as she tends to do. Her redheaded companion had just slammed his foot on the breaks, sending her flying forward, crashing against the dashboard in front of her.

"Trish! Are you okay?!" Dez puts the car in park, unbuckles, and helps her back into her seat as she holds her aching head. Trish swats him away, her hand flailing, cranky after the rude awakening.

"What the hell, Dez?!" She finally opens her eyes to shoot him a glare. His brows push together in concern, regardless. She had hit her head pretty hard. He reaches over to hold the side of her head.

"I'm so sorry, Trish – but look!" he points with his other hand beyond the windshield. A woman stands in front of their van, her palms held out in front of her. A tall blonde, seemingly around her mid-twenties, wearing what appears to be a lab coat of some kind, stained with a multitude of God knows what.

"She just came out of nowhere and stopped in front of us. I nearly ran her over!" Dez explains, reeling himself together after the shock. He pulls his hand back gently from her head. Trish, growling still, rolls down the window on her side.

"Get out of the street, lady! I get that there's zombies out there and you're scared, but that's no reason to get yourself run over by a car, of all things!" she rebukes the stranger. The woman walks over to Dez's window.

"I can explain. I need help. I was left behind by my group, and I really need to get back to the facility I work at. It's imperative that I get back as soon as possible." She folds her hands together, pleading the boy. Dez rolls down his window.

"Yeah, of course. We can give you a lift," he agrees immediately, without a second thought. Trish thwaks his head with the back of her hand. "Yow! What was that for?!" He turns to face the abrasive girl, who rolls up the window on her side.

"We need to talk. Close your window."

"But she–"

"–I said close it!" He complies, her demanding tone doing him in, and gives the blonde woman an apologetic look, mouthing a "sorry". He finds himself pulled by the collar.

"Have you learned nothing from our recent escapade?" The girl whispers to him harshly, inches away from his face. The boy scratches the back of his head.

"She doesn't look dangerous, Trish. She just needs a ride, that's all. It's not as if she's carrying weapons in that little lab coat," he makes his case, matching her whisper in tone. He winces, the pull at his collar causing discomfort. She releases him, her tone softening – knowing that she has to get a handle on her anger towards the boy. So innocent, so trusting – it's a huge part of who he is. She can't change that. She just needs to convince him.

"We don't know that. We can't go blindly trusting everybody we meet. You know that's dangerous. We can't afford it. We just can't, Dez," she implores him. "We don't know anything about her, or what she wants from us." Dez sighs, confliction in his eyes. Trish makes a good argument. He trusts her judgment. However, there's that nagging part of him that would not – could not – let this go.

"Trish, I think you're overreacting. If she's any danger to us, it would've shown already, right? But no, in fact, she nearly got run over by our van because she's so desperate for help; I think we should help her. And I think you need to go lie down in the back, you've got a red lump on your forehead from the impact." He reaches over, brushing her hair out of her face to get a better look. "Yikes." He gives her a repentant smile. "Look, babe, if we don't help her and she ends up dead – that'll be on us. I just couldn't live with that."

Trish feels her cheeks immediately go hot hearing him address her as "babe". She does her best to fight the giddy feeling bubbling up inside of her, and keep it from surfacing. The word had, admittedly, annoyed her when he used to use it on his ex, Carrie. She always figured it was the word itself, but maybe…

She snaps herself out of the tangent stream of thought. She's got an argument to win, she must maintain that. She can't let him win her over so easy, but…

Dammit, why must he make me feel this way? Why must he be so...She bites her lip. "I hope you're right, Dez." She gives in. She hates that she did. But he had made a very valid point. As concerned as she is for their safety, she wouldn't be able to live with herself knowing that they allowed an innocent person to perish when they could've helped her. Perhaps Dez is right. Maybe it's time his judgment takes a turn. "Let her in."

The boy gives her a small, tender smile, leaning over and giving her a light peck on the top lip. "You're doing a good thing here, Trish. I know it's scary out there, but we can't let that ruin us. I'm proud of you." His words melt her, and though she despises the fact that he has this strange sort of power over her, she feels content. She nods, slipping into the back of the van to rest her aching head, and perhaps continue her nap.

Dez leans over to the right and pulls up the lock on the passenger's side of the vehicle, then proceeds to roll down the window on his side. "Hop in." The blonde gives him a grateful smile, hands clasped together in appreciation.

"Thank you. Thank you so much." She rushes over to the passenger side, wasting no time. "Sorry about your head," she immediately apologizes to the girl in the back. Trish mutters something inaudible as she starts drifting off.

"I hope she doesn't have a concussion." Dez looks back at his girl, his eyes holding a monsoon of concern. "She hit her head pretty hard." The blonde woman nods.

"Don't fall asleep, Miss," she advises. "If you have a concussion, it's important to stay awake."

"Yeah, yeah, lady. I don't need your help." Trish scoffs, forcing herself awake. She allowed Dez a chance for her to trust this woman just enough – that doesn't mean she has to play nice.

"Etta. My name's Etta. But if you prefer 'Lady', I'm fine with that." The sly smirk on her lips puts Trish on high alert. Not even five minutes, and this woman's already on her bad side.

"Look, Etta, I don't know who you think you are but–" Trish begins, though Dez cuts her short.

"–So! Etta, where is it that you need to go exactly?" He turns to the woman seated beside him.

"It's a building down the road a few miles, you can't miss it. It's a laboratory I work at. We uh…We've been working on…" She takes a deep breath. "Well, I'm not at liberty to completely discuss it, but its important work that will help our…Current situation. I guess you can say we're working on eliminating the threat at hand."

"You really think that something can be done about all of this?" Dez asks, putting the van in drive, starting down the road. Trish groans some more, the slight rocking motion of the vehicle as it begins moving forward initiating a rolling feeling in her head.

"I think we're definitely onto something." Etta pushes her blonde locks back, out of her face. "I can't say for certain, but we seem to be getting there." She rests her hand delicately on the boy's arm. "I cannot thank you enough for helping me out here. There must be some way I can repay you." She glides her hand down to his bicep. Dez shrugs, ignorant of the more-than-friendly contact. Trish, on the other hand, doesn't miss a thing.

"It's the right thing to do. Don't worry about it." His innocent smile intrigues the woman. She keeps her hand in its place.

"You've got such nice arms." She gives his bicep a teasing little squeeze. Almost immediately, Trish reacts, smacking the woman's hand away. Etta turns to her, arrant surprise on her face. An expression Trish cannot bring herself to believe.

"Sorry. Thought I saw a fly or something," she explains herself with a tight-lipped smile. Etta purses her lips.

"Right. Thanks." She settles herself back in her seat. Trish turns to Dez, the boy completely oblivious as he focuses on the road ahead. His cheerful smile, full of pride for doing what he believes to be the right thing, reflects his cluelessness. For this, Trish is thankful. This woman's charms would likely go right over his head. Not that it would stop her. Trish watches Etta's hand make its way back to rest at the bend of Dez's arm.

This is gonna be a long drive.

"I don't like her."

"Trish…" Dez drags her name. "Play nice." He picks up a few boxes off the shelves. They had pulled up to yet another mini-mart by a gas station to gather supplies. There's never enough, of course. Etta waits for them by the van, assigned the duty of look-out.

"She's up to something, Dez, I can feel it." Trish takes the boxes from him and sets them down in the shopping cart. "The way she looks at us, how she's so secretive about her work…"

"She told us it's confidential, remember? It's none of our business." He opens up a jar of mayo, giving it a sniff. He winces, tossing it aside. "A lot of this stuff's already expired."

"Dez, there's expiration dates you can read. You don't have to sniff everything." She shakes her head. "And it is our business, Dez. If we weren't in the situation we're in, I'd understand confidentiality. But now…There's just too much at stake. We can't keep secrets. We can't be around people that do. It's just not safe."

"She really doesn't seem like she means us any harm. If she does, why hasn't she done something already? She had every opportunity to." He turns to her fully and takes her by the shoulders. "But enough about her, how's your head?"

"I'm fine." She shakes off his hands.

"Trish." His voice grows stern.

"I've got a little headache, that's all." She shrugs. "I mean, I'm pretty annoyed right now, and that's not helping."

"Annoyed at me? I'll stop sniffing everything, I promise!"

"No – at her…I just don't like the way she looks at me. Or the way she…Touches you."

"Wait, what?"

"Dez, c'mon, she's been all over you. First the thing with your arm, then how she touches your hand anytime she wants to tell you how thankful she is. It's unsettling. I don't trust it. I don't trust her." Her arms cross over her chest, as she glances out the glass doors to watch the blonde, who had stayed close to the van. Dez smirks.

"Oh. I see what this is about." He nudges her lightly with his elbow as he pushes the cart forward. "You're jealous."

"Protective," she asserts, knowing that would be his initial thought.

"Jealous," he sings, chuckling lightly as he inspects a few more jars. "You have nothing to worry about, Trish-Kabob. I'm not interested in her. But I'll tell you what, I'll try to be less charming. If that's even possible." He gives her wink. She grinds her teeth, furious that he would not take her seriously.

"Dez, I'm not threatened by her because I think she's going to steal your heart away or something." She huffs. "Though, yes, I'm not all that comfortable with her flirting with you. But that's not it. She just…She's shady. And I'm scared." Her anger deteriorates as quickly as it came, leaving a very nervous Trish. A frightened Trish. Dez releases the cart and wraps his arms around her, pulling her head to his chest.

"Not everyone's a monster, Trish. You've got to give people a chance. I know it's hard after going through what we went through, but there are still good people left." He kisses the top of her head. "You don't have to trust her…Just…Trust me, okay?" He pulls back to face her. "You do trust me, right?"

"Of course, you doof. You never gave me a reason not to." She exhales sharply. "And alright. I still don't trust her, but I'll try to give her a chance." She rests her head against his chest as he glides his fingers down through her tresses.

"Thank you." He smiles. "You're still my number one priority, Trish. Remember that." She nods against his chest, reveling in the feeling. She knows they'll have to get back to the van – and back to that woman – eventually. But until then, she drinks up the tranquility of the fleeting moment.

They had driven a few miles after the station when the van starts to breaks down. Smoke rises thickly from the engine before the vehicle comes to a complete halt.

"This can't be happening." Trish grasps at her hair. They hadn't seen another vehicle on the road in a while. How would they carry all the supplies? Surely they wouldn't be able to do so on foot. Dez hops out to inspect the smoking engine, wincing and coughing as the thick clouds surround him. Etta gets out from her side, as well.

"Oh, no, this isn't good…" The blonde covers her mouth with the tips of her fingers. "It seems like your engine has met its end." Trish moves to the front of the van, immediately eyeing something peculiar in the passenger seat. A vial of some sort. It had probably slipped out of Etta's lab coat. She covertly pockets it, then jumps out of the vehicle from Dez's side, pulling the boy away from the engine.

"Dez, I don't think you can fix it." She frowns. "We might have to keep going on foot." He pouts.

"Which means we'll have to lighten our load to whatever we can carry in those backpacks." He shakes his head. "I didn't think it would give out so soon. It's not like it had a huge amount of miles on it. So weird."

"Yeah. Weird." She turns to glance at the other woman, who seemed to be looking through her coat.

Etta climbs back into the car, probably to look for her missing vial upon noticing that it went missing. Trish takes this opportunity to show it to Dez. She pulls it out of her pocket and hands it to him.

"Tell me what this is." Her voice had lowered to a susurration.

"What – where'd you get that?" He takes it from her, unplugging the cork and giving the concoction a whiff. Judging by the reaction on his face, Trish knows it can't be anything good. He plugs it back up. "Trish, why do you have hydrochloric acid on you? This stuff is highly corrosive." Trish knew she could count on him and his super-sniffer to figure it out. The boy had, after all, gotten into – and passed – advanced chemistry their senior year of high school.

"It was in the passenger seat. I'm pretty sure it fell out of Etta's lab coat."

"Oh, you found my vial!" Etta interrupts, jumping out of the car and promptly taking it right out of Dez's hand. "Sorry. This stuff's pretty gnarly. Can't have it fall into the wrong hands."

"Right." Dez gives her a nod, accompanied with a polite smile. "Trish just found it in your seat, she was going to return it to you – isn't that right, Trish?"

"Right. I was just checking with Dez to see if it was…His." She shrugs. "He carries all sorts of strange things." Etta smiles.

"It's not so strange if you're a biochemist." She climbs back into the vehicle, checking to see if she had dropped anything else.

"You believe me now, Dez?" Trish mutters to the boy beside her. "I don't care what her profession is. That's a strange thing to just be carrying around unless you plan to do something with it." Dez purses his lips, concern growing on his face.

"Yeah, I'll admit that's kind of unusual. But it doesn't prove anything." He shakes his head. "Nevermind that now. We need to start packing. We're on foot from here on out…At least until we can find another car or something."

"Let's just hope we don't come across any giant hordes on the way." Drowned in her worries surrounding the stranger, she had almost forgotten the other dangers lurking about. She isn't sure, at this point, what she should be more afraid of…The creepers that they will inevitably encounter, or that creep of a woman. "Just…Let's keep our distance from her, okay? We can walk her to her building, but...We should keep away."

"I think I can manage that." He tucks her hair behind her ears. "Don't want you getting all jealous, after all."

"Ugh!" She shoves him away and marches over to the back of the van to start her packing. He suppresses his giggles at her reaction. Though he can't help but believe her fears are warranted. Ever since Trish had brought it up, he had started to pick up on more things. Though he does his best to push those worries to the back of his head. Paranoia never did him any good – and he isn't about to let silly fears get in the way of doing a good deed. And if what this woman says is true, what with her and the other folks at her lab working on a way to end the threat, then saving her could mean saving many lives. Their own, included.

He follows the short girl to the back of the van to help her pack. It'd be difficult to part with many of the supplies they had gathered, especially with what they had to go through to get it all, but they haven't been left with much of a choice. It's not like they could drag the van along with them – it would only slow them down and cause unnecessary hassle. Then again, it provided a place to sleep – and some protection. But they could find a new one – right?

Etta watches them pack on the sidelines, hands in her coat pockets. "I'm sorry. I suppose I caused a bit of bad luck." Dez gives her a sympathetic smile.

"It's not your fault, these things happen." He hands her a plastic bag for her to fill with supplies for herself. She reciprocates the smile, and begins her own packing. Trish rolls her eyes, muttering a few choice words under her breath. Dez shoots her a look, mouthing the words "be nice".

"So…Lad–I mean. Etta," Trish begins. "What exactly is the plan? Like, I get that you can't give us exact details, but how do you plan on…How did you put it? Eliminating the threat?" Etta's eyes brightened, a thin smile stretching across her face.

"Oh, well, you know…Something like finding a cure."

"A cure? You mean...A way to turn the people back?" Dez feels his heart drop to his stomach. All those creepers they had killed thus far…All those people. They could have been cured? He feels himself start to shake. Had he really become…A murderer?

"Well, that's the idea." Etta shrugs. "We can't tell for sure if it's possible to cure them, per say…But we'd like to at least try and prevent it from spreading. Contain it, you know? It's a difficult science, for sure. A very new one. Plus, it's not like we have any contact with the rest of the science world to discuss it. And well..." She stares at Trish, an incomprehensible look in her eyes. "Drastic times call for drastic measures."

Trish can feel her knees go weak. Something about the way the woman looks at her. As if she's not another human being.

As if she's…Cannon fodder.

"Well, let's get moving then, shall we?" Dez clears his throat, looping his arms through his backpack straps. "If we walk at good enough pace, we should be able to get there before dark, right?"

"Correct," Etta confirms. "It's not too far along now, I recognized one of the road signs a little while ago. We're getting close."

Close to what exactly, Trish doesn't feel entirely certain. She links her arm with Dez's, practically clinging to his side. Everything about this woman makes her nervous. The boy gives her arm a comforting squeeze.

"It's going to be okay. Play nice."

Special thanks to BossVicCossWynch for her help, as well as Kdramaqueen30 on Twitter.

-AJ